Meet Me On The Roof
by EvidenceOfMe
Summary: Prentiss/Hotch. My take on how Prentiss would have returned. "The reason that time had not healed her wounds. Because it wasn't a scar that was keeping her awake at night. It wasn't unanswered question that made her run and fall in her dreams. It was a part of her that was missing, the part that only he could complete." One Shot.


Hello :) I haven't written anything in a while and wanted to write something again! Please forgive any spelling and grammar mistakes because I just wrote this tonight! This is my take on how Prentiss would have come back. Hope you enjoy!

Please review and let me know what you think!

* * *

She could feel herself slip; caught in a dream, awakened by the fall. Only to find herself caught up crumbled sheets; a cold sweat, heart pounding. She let out a slow breath, trying to calm the pounding in her ears.

It had been two years since she had left. Two years and the wounds had yet to heal. She thought putting distance between her and the past would help. Yet, here she was, plagued by the same recurring dream.

The one that had made her run in the first place. But she hadn't run, she thought to herself, she had made a rational choice and decided to leave; to start fresh. Although if this was starting new, then why was she awake at three in the morning, hands shaking and heart racing?

She swung her legs over the side of the bed; the floor felt icy beneath her feet. She ran her hands through her hair, wondering why her body had yet to stop trembling.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, the room illuminated by the city street light. Even in semidarkness, she could tell how lost she looked. With no makeup, the dark circles beneath her eyes made her look half dead.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see her own reflection any longer.

Knowing that sleep would evade her once again, she felt her way through the dark room and opened the balcony door. Cool night air swept over her, jolting any last remnants of sleep that had clung to her.

She pulled her arms tight around herself; fending off the cool breeze. She put her hands on the railing and looked at the street below her.

The last few days, she'd felt restless; even more so than normal. Once she'd left, she thought it was just excitement, or nerves, about starting something new. But as time had gone on, the feeling had subsided, but it had never fully gone away.

Now it was surfacing once again, stronger than it had been before. She wanted to go back. If she though logically about it, going back would not solve anything; that chapter of her life was closed, locked away with the key at the bottom of some empty abyss.

There were no loose ends; no unfinished thoughts. It was over, and she knew that. So why did she feel this way?

She kept telling herself that going back would bring her no satisfaction. It would only leave her with an aching heart when she had to leave again. She only had to give it time, because time heals all wounds.

Once again her mind raced, controlling her body with it, and before she even had a second chance to fully consider her actions. She went back inside and turned on the small table lamp by her bed. She reached for her phone and dialed the number before giving herself time to back out.

It rang twice before the voice on the other end said hello. Her heart pounded in her chest, but this time it wasn't because of a dream. The voice said hello again.

She breathed in, her lips moved, but she couldn't make a sound come out. She hung up before said anything stupid, even though she hadn't said anything at all. She clenched her jaw and walked to the balcony again.

She didn't even know why she'd called in the first place. At least that's what she kept telling herself. But didn't she know? Didn't she realize that there was a part of that chapter of her life that hadn't been closed?

A battle of logic and feeling began to emerge within her. She had barely spoken with him in the two years that she had been gone; surely he had moved on with his life, settled down. And why shouldn't he? It not as if they had ever been anything.

So why had she just called him?

Why had his voice sent a shuddering feeling through her entire body?

Why did she long so much to hear it again?

_Don't be so stupid, _she thought to herself. She just felt comforted by his voice; it was familiar, like a cherished memory from the past. That was all it was.

She felt both ashamed and excited for calling him. Ashamed and embarrassed for intruding into his life when it was completely uncalled for. Yet excited, and somehow scared, because she finally realized the reason.

The reason that time had not healed her wounds. Because it wasn't a scar that was keeping her awake at night. It wasn't unanswered question that made her run and fall in her dreams.

It was a part of her that was missing, the part that only he could complete. She felt completely foolish for thinking things like that. Her life was far from any fairy tale, so how could she even think that he was the cure all to her disheveled life?

The he could somehow sweep her off her feet and give her the happy ending she hadn't realized she had longed for. It was completely unrealistic, and undoubtedly somewhat insane.

And yet, it made her smile.

The more she thought it over, the more it seemed to make sense to her, although still quite irrational.

Before she could allowed herself to come to her senses and realize how utterly idiotic she was being, she decided that she had to see him. Even if once she got there she realized that it had been nothing more than fairy tale dreams brought on by sleep deprivation, she had to know once and for all.

She was going back.

* * *

He walked into the office briskly; keeping his eyes down, wanting to avoid contact with anyone until he absolutely had to talk to them. He didn't want to answer any questions as to why he had taken most of the morning off.

He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before. He kept telling himself it was dream, but he'd checked his call log what felt like a million times and it was there.

Maybe she hadn't meant too. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe she hadn't realized it was him. Or maybe it wasn't even her.

Thoughts like these had been swirling in his mind since the moment he had heard the dial tone on the other end. He wanted her to call again, to talk to him. He wanted it more than anything. But he couldn't allow himself to think like this, he knew it was farfetched and unrealistic.

He pushed open his office door and set his briefcase down on the desk. He was about to sit down when he noticed a small handwritten note resting on the desk with his name scribbled across the front.

He knew that writing.

But it couldn't be.

He took the note carefully in his hand, as if afraid that it would disappear into thin air and he would be left with nothing once again.

He turned it over. Five words were written on the back. His heart beat sped up. It had to be her. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile; it just had to be her.

Ignoring the alarmed looks from people around the office, he had to keep himself from breaking into a run and hurriedly made his way to the staircase down the hall. He took two steps at a time as he rushed two flights of stairs.

Reaching the door, he stopped for just a second, holding in his breath.

He pushed the door open slowly, thinking that when he did that he would surely wake up from this dream.

The afternoon sun hit his face as he stepped out onto the roof.

His eyes focused just as she turned to face him. Their eyes locked instantly. They met halfway, both trying desperately to keep their composure.

"You're back?"

"I am." She smiled. Oh God, how he had missed that smile.

"For good?"

Her smile faltered for a second. "That depends."

"On what?" He could feel his heart pounding; half afraid she could hear it.

"Do you want me to be?" Her eyes were so innocent; so clear.

He stood before her in silence. She watched him intently. Their eyes were speaking more than any words ever could.

He took her cheek in his hand, letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. She was really here.

She took a step closer to him; his hand still cupping her face, their bodies almost touching. He leaned down, and his lips touched hers. The world seemed to stop moving.

His words came out as a soft whisper against her face.

"I never wanted you to go."


End file.
